


About Her Alone

by imtelevisionsmoirarose



Series: The Commonplace Book [4]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: David Rose Deserves Nice Things, David Rose is a Good Person, David and Patrick have lots of feelings for Stevie, I have a lot of feelings, Introspection, M/M, OT3, Other, POV Patrick Brewer, Patrick Brewer is a Button, Patrick Brewer loves David Rose, Post-Canon, Rosebud Motel Group, Stevie Budd is a Troll, Stevie Budd: Human Woman, Throuple, discussion of throuple relationship, if this is not your jam I'm just warning you, lots of softness, no real smut, seriously a lot of introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29926209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imtelevisionsmoirarose/pseuds/imtelevisionsmoirarose
Summary: Stevie has been gone a lot setting up motel properties for RMG, much to David's dismay, and Patrick takes her to the airport in the middle of the night for an RMG business trip, reflecting a bit on Stevie as a person and who she is to him and David. Also, some snuggles with David when he gets home.--------------------Stevie grips her travel mug exhaustedly as Patrick puts the car back in drive, headed towards the highway. He doesn’t say anything because it’s early and it’s Stevie and she’ll talk if she wants to; they’ve got a long drive. Every so often, he looks over at her unassumingly pretty face in the dark. Street lights dance across it again and again as the car picks up speed and it’s sort of beautiful.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer & Stevie Budd, Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Patrick Brewer/Stevie Budd/David Rose, Stevie Budd & David Rose
Series: The Commonplace Book [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153289
Comments: 22
Kudos: 76





	About Her Alone

**Author's Note:**

> So I basically wrote this for just me. I have a lot of feelings about these three and their relationship and its possible evolution. So here we are. Hopefully I put up enough warnings for people who are absolutely NOT about this. I know this is definitely not everyone's cup of tea.
> 
> I love Stevie as a character and I think she's such a strong woman that she's able to be on her own but also she's soft when it comes to David and Patrick and I love that too. 
> 
> Like I said—here we are. Oh gee.
> 
> come find me on tumblr if you want to say hello! im-televisions-moira-rose.tumblr.com 
> 
> I love meeting new people from the fandom, so I'd love to chat!
> 
> Read more about [keeping a commonplace book here](https://notebookofghosts.com/2018/02/25/a-brief-guide-to-keeping-a-commonplace-book/)

**Patrick Brewer's Common Place Book, Vol. 3, Page 86**

**An Interlude With Artemis  
**Nikita Gill

The night sky is a wolf’s mouth today,  
and Artemis, bathed in solitude, is on her wild hunt.  
I meet her by the silver lake and ask her

about her alone and would she ever give it up for love.  
She chuckles as she gestures to the exquisite forest  
“What _about_ love? I have enough.

How can any one person compare to such splendor?  
I traded my duties for belonging to myself,  
for this wolf wild heart was not made to surrender.”

* * *

It’s around one in the morning when Patrick pulls up at Stevie’s building to find her waiting at the entrance, suitcase in tow, wearing grey joggers and her very Stevie half smile. He pops the trunk of his sedan and hops out to help her with the bag.

“Seriously, dude? You really think I can’t pick up my own bag? I was the only bellhop at the Rosebud for like 10 years.”

“Stevie, it’s a gesture. What’s the big deal?” Patrick grins at her as he loads it into the back of the car and she rolls her eyes.

“You’re not allowed to be in a good mood this early. It’s unnatural.” She huffs, sliding in to the passenger’s seat and shutting the door decisively.

Stevie needs a ride to Toronto to catch a 6AM flight and car services don’t start pick up this far out, this early. She’s headed to Colorado for a couple of weeks to set up some Rosebud properties in the Denver area and David has volun _told_ Patrick to take her as he obviously wouldn’t get up to do it himself but also didn’t want her to suffer through the indignity of a three hour cab ride.

Patrick hasn’t stopped making jokes about _The Shining_ for a week now.

Stevie grips her travel mug exhaustedly as Patrick puts the car back in drive, headed towards the highway. He doesn’t say anything because it’s early and it’s Stevie and she’ll talk if she wants to; they’ve got a long drive. Every so often, he looks over at her unassumingly pretty face in the dark. Street lights dance across it again and again as the car picks up speed and it’s sort of beautiful.

Patrick and David have been seeing far less of Stevie the past couple months as the motel openings for the spring pile up. She’s gone almost every weekend, and sometimes it’s for weeks at a time with a few days between trips. It feels unnatural when he gets back to the cottage after a solo shift at the store and David and Stevie aren’t already eating take out, half a bottle of wine in, curled up on the couch. David’s been noticeably short tempered when she’s away and he’s spending all his free time at the store, obsessing over product displays that really don’t matter and hovering over Patrick, nit-picking constantly. It’s driving Patrick insane but he knows it’s only because part of David’s heart is on leave somewhere else. He understands.

Stevie’s absence is especially apparent on lazy mornings at the cottage when things are quiet and slow and the coffee is hot and fresh for hours, echoing the energy between the three of them. Patrick’s been missing her late at night, too, when he’s vibrating at a high frequency and David is already long asleep. His husband is many things but a night owl isn’t one of them, and Stevie is always glad to curl up next to him and wrap herself in a song; he loves when she’s just showered and her hair is wet and smells like her shampoo when she leans her head against his shoulder. She’s uncharacteristically soft then and they never have to say a word.

The first hour of the drive is mostly quiet. The radio Patrick never turns off softly hums the Eagles in the background and Stevie dozes on and off for a while, leaning back against the headrest of the passenger seat. Cozy warmth spreads in Patrick’s stomach as he sneaks a peek of her sleeping face—a comfortingly familiar sight. Stevie must sense him watching her because she opens one eye, surveying him suspiciously.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Patrick shakes his head, cheeks pink in the dark of the car. She closes her eye again. After a minute he clears his throat.

“You’ve been gone a lot lately.” He’s a little cautious with his tone, trying to read her mood. She nods.

“Yeah. Mr. Rose has, like, seven more motels he wants to open before Q4, which means at least six more weeks away from Schitt’s Creek after these two.” She sighs and then opens her eyes to look down at her coffee. “It’s definitely a lot. But I’m lucky. I can’t complain.”

Patrick shakes his head and turns to her. His voice is still careful.

“Stevie—not enjoying every aspect of the job doesn’t make you ungrateful.”

She shrugs.

“You’re right. I know. It’s mostly amazing. I love traveling. I’ve seen more in the past few months than in the last 10 years. Meeting people from all over and seeing new places has been really great.” He feels her look over at him but he keeps his eyes forward. “The hardest part is that it’s pretty lonely.”

Patrick’s chest swells a little at the admission—so he’s getting Stevie Budd, Human Woman this morning; it’s a little early for stinging sarcasm, after all. His hand on the console itches to reach for her but he resists; he’s going to let this play out. She looks out the passenger window, face turned away.

“Sometimes I get homesick. I’m not used to being away for so long, so often.”

Patrick smiles softly; he can read between the lines. She’s playing with the cuffs of the sweatshirt she’s wearing like a kid, pulling them up over her hands and balling her fists inside. On a second glance, Patrick realizes it’s actually _his_ sweatshirt—an old, soft one from uni that she must have swiped from his drawer recently—and his heart hums.

Stevie is one of the toughest, most complex people he’s ever met. He truly believes that she doesn’t need anyone. But he knows she wants them. And o _h_ is she wanted. Sometimes, she’s an island, but they’re more than willing to swim to her.

“You and David are kind of… _home._ ”

Her voice is soft and raspy and the wary bubble in Patrick’s chest pops. She’s still looking out the window, head turned away, curled up tightly in the passenger seat. Her choice of sweatshirt is definitely not a coincidence. Carefully, he puts a comforting hand on her leg, just above her knee, and she covers it with her small one. They sit like that in silence, Stevie squeezing the top of his wrist gently. His heart aches when she’s small like this; he’s never quite sure what she needs. David always knows.

David is their fulcrum.

“We miss you.” Patrick clears his throat and then adds, much quieter. “I miss you.”

Stevie gives his hand another firm squeeze and their eyes meet and Patrick knows that means _I miss you, too._

“David has been impossible the past couple months while you’re gone.” He offers, as if knowing that would make anything easier.

She snorts.

“What’s new?”

“No, Stevie. This is like ‘I ate the last cruller without asking’ levels of impossible. Impossible with a capital i.”

Patrick shakes his head as his hand relaxes at the bottom of the steering wheel, the other still under Stevie’s on her thigh. She cringes, looking at him with a sympathetic half smile.

“Yikes.”

“Yep. I think Mr. Rose owes me damages for keeping you from him.”

Stevie nods.

“Definitely.”

They’re quiet again for a bit. The radio is now softly playing the Beatles and Stevie sips her coffee, other hand still resting on top of Patrick’s.

_“You’re asking me will my love grow? I don’t know. I don’t know.”_

Patrick sings quietly under his breath and Stevie smiles—a real one—in the dark of the car. He lets himself get a little louder.

_“You stick around, now, it may show. I don’t know. I don’t know.”_

She grips his hand tighter and begins to hum along quietly into her travel mug as she takes another sip. He squeezes her thigh gently and continues, giving a smiling over her coffee cup, eyes fond.

_“Something in the way she knows, and all I have to do is think of her. Something in the things she shows me.”_

Okay, now he’s fully serenading her. Stevie rolls her eyes and pats his hand exasperatedly, setting her drink down in the cupholder.

“Alright, George. We get the picture.”

Patrick chuckles.

Stevie is one of the surest people Patrick’s ever known. She’s incredibly comfortable in who she is as a person, as a woman and Patrick finds it surprisingly disarming. As someone who spent most of his twenties hopelessly floundering, he’s impressed by the steadiness and ease with which she carries herself. Sure, she has her prickly moments, but it’s just because she knows what she wants, what she deserves and she does _not_ suffer a fool. In a specific way, he looks up to her.

Their relationship isn’t linear—over the last three years it has developed and retreated and grown branches and become something much more than he ever hoped for or expected. Sometime after the wedding, though (and Patrick can’t pinpoint when exactly), things shifted, and Stevie ended up in their bed over and over—a little tender, a little aching and incredibly wanted. Patrick never thought he’d willingly have a woman’s naked body pressed against his again, but he loves watching David moving inside of her and she is so much more than a woman to them. They all know this.

Stevie is on her own plane of existence; Distance is her strength. Not allowing herself to be known prevents weakness. No cracks. No vulnerabilities.

But then she met David, and he changed her.

They’re two halves of the same whole that somehow found each other between lives. The amount of unspoken communication they do when they’re together is staggering but it doesn’t at all threaten Patrick—rather he’s comforted by the presence of this other part of David that exists outside of his body—this beautiful, bright-eyed, _mouthy_ spark that can bring them both to their knees.

“Your brain is very loud.”

Patrick shakes his head.

“I was just thinking about how all this traveling is making you soft.”

“You wish, Brewer.” She snorts, but her eyes flicker.

Stevie falls asleep again for the last leg of the trip and Patrick lets her doze. When they pull up to the drop off lane at the airport, he quietly gets out of the car to grab her suitcase, trying not to wake her. A few seconds later she appears next to him at the trunk, still bleary-eyed, giving him a light shove on the shoulder.

“What the hell? I’m the one getting on the plane, here.”

“I just hate to wake you.”

“Well _that’s_ not always true.”

She grins slyly and Patrick blushes again as he sets her bag on the ground, pulling up the handle; he’s definitely been happy to wake her for _other_ reasons in the past. Stevie grabs it from him, eyes playfully narrow. They stand awkwardly facing each other for a moment as cars whiz around them in the adjacent lanes before Patrick pulls her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her neck, resting on her shoulders, and drawing her close. She’s warm against him, her hands around his waist, his face in her dark hair.

“Come home soon _._ ”

Patrick murmurs softly in her ear and he feels her bury her face in the crook of his neck and give a small sigh, shoulders softening. When they pull apart her eyes are suspiciously wet but Patrick says nothing—just squeezes her hand gently and clears his throat.

“You’ll let us know when you get in safe?”

Record amount of eye rolls before 6AM.

“Duh.”

With an extra squeeze he lets go of her hand and she turns, hopping the suitcase up the curb and heading towards the airport entrance. When she reaches the doors, she turns back and sees Patrick leaning against the car, watching her walk away and she gives him a look.

 _Go!_ She mouths, shooing him with her free hand, exasperated but also fond. Patrick gives her one last upside-down smile but obliges, walking back to the drivers side and ducking in. Her dark hair disappears into the airport as he pulls away, mentally preparing himself for the long drive back home, alone.

* * *

The sun is just starting to color the sky when Patrick pulls back into their driveway—a calming collection of purples and pinks as it peeks over the horizon.

He’s exhausted.

Quietly, he lets himself inside, sets down the keys and slowly makes his way up the stairs. When he reaches the master, he stops for a minute in the doorway, heart swelling at the sight of his husband starfishing across the entire bed, long arms and legs haphazardly stretched in every direction. _How does he have so many limbs?_ He wonders, smiling softly as he eagerly strips down to his boxer briefs and climbs in, folding himself around David’s warm, sprawled body. The clock reads 7:16. David snuffles as Patrick’s cold hand winds underneath his t-shirt.

“We made it.” He murmurs, his face buried in David’s neck. David stirs, shifting his body and wrapping his long arms around Patrick.

“Mmms’good.” David kisses his forehead sleepily. “Thank you.” Patrick’s hand plays with the dark hair on David’s stomach and David sighs softly.

“I missed you.” Patrick murmurs, mouth warm on David’s neck.

“You were gone for like 6 hours and I was asleep the whole time.”

“I know.” He concedes with a nod, pressing an open mouthed kiss to David’s neck. “I still missed you.”

He rolls so that his body is covering David’s, his weight heavy and comforting on his husband’s chest.

“How was she?” David’s voice cracks slightly as he looks at Patrick, concerned. “I mean, how did she seem?”

“Tired. Just like me.” David rolls his eyes. A pause. “I don’t know, David. She seems okay; she’s just a little burnt out. She actually told me that she misses us.”

David’s eyebrows shoot towards his hairline.

“This is far more serious than I originally thought.”

He sounds genuinely concerned. Patrick nods, kissing the corner of David’s mouth.

“I think we just need to plan a cozy welcome home for her. Something red wine heavy with the good Indian takeout from Elm Glen and a few gratuitously violent movies.”

David looks mildly offended, one brow cocked.

“Well. It’s clear we each have our own ideas of what a cozy welcome home entails.” He acknowledges, hands at the small of Patrick’s back but assuredly creeping lower, pulling Patrick down against him. Patrick smiles and ducks down for another kiss.

“Why don’t you show me what yours is?” He asks. Their noses are almost touching as he languorously grinds against the warm, slowly awakening body below him.

“Mmm. Yes. Yep.” David bites his lip and rolls his hips upwards, meeting the delicious friction with more friction. Patrick’s hand under his shirt grazes a nipple and then reaches down towards the hem to lift it up, exposing his stomach; he hums happily at the sight, tugging it even further until David props himself up to take it off the rest of the way. Patrick sits back patiently as David reveals his freckled, tan shoulders.

“It’s so early.” He whines, dramatically flopping back against the pillows.

“David, you need to know your audience.”Patrick’s mouth is hot against a dark, pebbled nipple and David hisses softly. “I might actually have the tiniest bit of sympathy if I hadn’t just spent six and a half hours in the car, overnight, at your request.”

His mouth slowly moves further south to David’s stomach, lapping at the soft skin under his bellybutton and David gives an encouraging hum.

“Request is a generous word.” Patrick clarifies. “I should have said command.”

David huffs.

“A rude but fair assessment.” He concedes, a hand finding its way to Patrick’s hair as a hot tongue laves between the waistband of David’s joggers and the sensitive skin underneath.

“Shh David.”

And, for once, David obliges.

* * *

A couple hot mouths and a few long, blissful moans later, they are curled up contently around each other, Patrick dozing on and off, occasionally opening his eyes to press a sleepy kiss to whatever part of his husband is readily available. David is obsessively checking his phone for word from Stevie even though it’s just barely ten.

“Well, did the plane crash? She was supposed to land at 9:43.” David’s voice is edged with anxiety and his hands are waving dramatically. “I can’t stop imagining her body lying in a field somewhere in Iowa.”

“David, she’s fine.” Patrick’s eye are still closed. “Check my phone. I put her flight in to a tracker.”

David reaches across Patrick’s body to grab it off the bedside table and scrutinizes the browser tab Patrick has pulled up. As he scrolls distractedly, his own phone buzzes and he rushes to answer, a flurry of long limbs and mussed hair.

“Thank god! You were supposed to call when you landed.”

Patrick can hear the low hum of Stevie’s voice on the other end, giving David attitude as usual. He loves that she knows exactly how to ruffle his feathers.

“Well, that’s _incorrect._ ” David is gesticulating wildly as if she can see him. Another endearing quality of his husband. “Sushi from a landlocked airport at ten in the morning? Are you _trying_ to get a parasite?” He shakes his head and throws wild eyes at Patrick, who can’t help but laugh as he turns over in the bed. This tracks. “No, I don’t care if you’ve been awake since 1!”

David breezes out of bed and begins pacing back and forth on the rug, phone clutched to his ear. Patrick props himself up on one elbow, fondly watching his husband not so quietly implode. When he looks over, eyes still wide, Patrick rubs the spot on the bed next to him, trying to coax David back in to keep him from completely vibrating out of his skin.

“You need a keeper. This is why I should be coming with you on some of these trips.”

David is saying _I miss you_.

“Okay, that’s also wildly inaccurate. Well. Text me when you get to the hotel, please. Mmm. Unlikely. Okay. Bye.”

David sets his phone down and flops back into bed exasperatedly.

“She cannot be trusted with her own health. This is why she needs us.”

Patrick chest tightens a bit at the weight of the last statement and he nods, pulling his flustered husband in for a kiss.

“I know, David. But I’m sure she’ll survive.”

“She better.” David settles back in against Patrick’s chest and Patrick can feel him soften slightly. He knows they have to actually get up soon to open the store for Sunday hours, but this is more important.

“David, I know the past few months have been hard with Stevie gone all the time.”

David plucks a piece of lint off the waistband of Patrick’s boxer briefs but says nothing.

“But once she gets all these motels set up, she’ll be in a good spot and we’ll have all summer with her. And I know your dad is looking to hire someone else to help out so that it’s not always just her.”

David sighs softly. 

“I’m really happy for her—don’t get me wrong. I know she’s like this big, important business woman now, doing all these important things for RMG, but I just.” He pauses and takes a shaky breath. “I got used to her always being around. Like a minimum ten minute drive away. And now she’s not. And I hate it.” Another pause. “Also, I am not great with change.”

Patrick barely disguises a snort. David is _definitely_ not great with change. When their body milk vendor switched up the main scent profile back in November, David complained for almost a month before he begrudgingly admitted to liking it. Because he’s not consistent, it’s comforting for David when things around him are.

“Yes, David—I know. We’re just figuring out a new normal. Lean on me—I’ve got tree trunk legs, remember?”

David laughs wetly.

“Oh, I very much appreciate your tree trunk legs.” He grins, squeezing Patrick’s upper thigh and stretching up to kiss him. Even though he’s very recently been…satisfied, Patrick’s body makes a valiant effort at arousal for a brief moment. His thoughts flicker back to memories of Stevie’s body, lithe and delightfully warm between them. Stevie’s mischievous eyes. Her smart mouth. A delicious ache of longing radiates in his belly.

“It’s good to miss her, David. We’re lucky to have someone to miss this much.” Patrick squeezes the top of David’s other hand where it rests on his chest and David nods gently in affirmation.

They’re silent for a long minute, Patrick’s mouth in David’s hair. Their room is full of sunlight and Patrick appreciates the way it highlights his husband’s body, stretched out long and gorgeous next to him. David shakes his head after a bit and huffs.

“I can’t believe she’s eating airport sushi.”

Patrick laughs to himself, thinking about how much pleasure Stevie absolutely took from David’s reaction.

“Oh, I can.”


End file.
